


Minor Deities

by methylviolet10b



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Alternate Universe, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Not Really Character Death, Some Humor, it's complicated - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-22 22:13:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7455847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/methylviolet10b/pseuds/methylviolet10b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are more things in Heaven and Earth. Written for JWP #10: A Higher Power.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Minor Deities

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: OMG, I have no idea where this one came from, but it would not be denied. And absolutely no beta. This was written in a huge rush. You have been warned.

“Come, Watson. It’s time.”  
  
From my bed, I looked up with dying eyes and smiled. There was my beloved Holmes as I remembered him best: young and strong and keen, regarding me with a fondness in those grey eyes that his stern features failed to conceal. Not the elderly beekeeper, or the frail wraith of his last illness, some months previous, although I had loved those versions of the man just as dearly.   
  
One faintly glowing hand reached out to mine with a familiar hint of impatience. “Come! The work awaits!”  
  
As soon as I felt his hand touch mine, I felt myself rising from my bed with a vigour I never thought to experience again. I looked down at myself and realized I, too, was glowing! More importantly, I was young and strong, and completely uninjured, as I had never been in my life with Holmes.   
  
I knew what had happened, of course, even before I saw the still form lying in a bed, and a room, that rapidly grew dim and faint before my eyes. I could feel no sorrow for the end of my earthly life, not with Holmes here with me, in whatever lay beyond.   
  
And what lay beyond looked remarkably like our old sitting-room in 221B, the best parts of it at any rate: our favourite chairs, Holmes’ commonplace-books, my writing-desk and papers. But there were no stains on the carpets or the walls, no draughts from the windows, no smoke from the coal-fire in the fireplace. And there were things there that had never been in our real rooms: the electric lights from the Sussex cottage; a plush leather sofa that I remembered very well indeed from an interlude we had in a French hotel; and all over a sense of light and space and peace that both had never been there and yet felt as if it had always been.  
  
“Is this Heaven?” I wondered aloud.   
  
Holmes chuckled, the sound as rich and as loving as I had ever heard it. “In a sense, my dear, dear Watson. As it happens, there really is more to Heaven than we ever dreamed of – and of the afterlife, too. There is eternal rest and peace for some, as we were taught. We can visit the blessed fields any time you like, hear the heavenly concerts. But for some – a chosen few – there is Work, too.”  
  
“Work? You said as much when you came for me, but what work can there be in Heaven?”  
  
“Not in Heaven per se, but on Earth. For as long as Man has existed, there have been stories of saints, avatars, celestial beings – minor deities, if you will. Beings that represent an aspect of a particular virtue, who provide aid and assistance to those in need. Rather like a whole new set of clients, in a way.”  
  
“And you are one of those special few, naturally.” I seized both of Holmes’ hands and pressed them to my heart. “My dear fellow, I can think of no-one more worthy.”  
  
Holmes – my Holmes! – blushed, and glowed a little brighter as he spoke. “I am a minor servant of Justice, as it happens.”  
  
“How utterly fitting,” I exclaimed. “You have always striven for justice, even above and beyond the bounds of the law.”  
  
Holmes nodded, then gave me a fondly exasperated look. “But I am not the only one so chosen,” he said pointedly.   
  
“Me?” I must have looked as astonished as I felt, for Holmes drew his hands back and brought mine to his lips, kissing my fingers tenderly before speaking again.  
  
“Of course you, Watson. As I believe someone once said, I can think of no-one more worthy.”  
  
“But compared to you, I have done so little for the cause of Justice - ”  
  
Holmes snorted. “You have done far more than you give yourself credit for, my dear fellow. But it is not Justice that has claimed you, though I truly believe it would have had another not pre-empted its claim. No, my dearest. It is Steadfastness that you have shown throughout your life; loyalty, faith, and determination in the face of all obstacles. I can think of no one more steadfast than you.”  
  
Somehow, I could sense that this was somehow the truth, no matter how unbelievable it seemed to me. I felt myself glow a little brighter when he mentioned Steadfastness, just as Holmes had shone more brilliantly when he mentioned Justice. I shook my head, not in denial, but in awe. “This is wonderful, Holmes. To be together again is all the happiness in the afterlife I ever hoped for. To be found so much more worthy…”  
  
“That you see the opportunity to work, to serve, as something to be worthy of speaks more of your merit than I ever could,” Holmes told me. “And we shall be together, I promise you that. But we are not so changed. Think of me, perhaps, as just a minor patron saint of independent investigators, and yourself as the patron spirit of dedicated chroniclers and faithful companions who soldier on regardless. It is as true as anything else.”  
  
Before I could find any words to reply, a cheery, well-remembered voice floated up into our sitting-room. “Oh Mr Holmes! Has the Doctor arrived?”  
  
Holmes smiled. “Yes, Mrs Hudson, he is here at last.”  
  
The door opened, and a figure appeared, so brightly shining I could almost not look at her. Yet it was unmistakably our own dear Mrs Hudson. “I’m so happy you’ve come at last, Doctor Watson. I shan’t stop in right now – I am certain you two have a great deal of catching up to do – but I wanted you to know how glad I am that you’re here, and let you know that I’ll be gone for the next goodly while.” She winked – winked! – at us both. “I’m needed in York. Don’t expect me back anytime soon.” With a benign, knowing smile, she vanished in a blaze of celestial glory.  
  
“Holmes?” I queried faintly. “Was that - ”   
  
“Mrs Hudson, yes,” Holmes confirmed. “We are but minor deities, Watson. Mrs Hudson, however, is the champion of long-suffering landladies everywhere, and as such, is rather closer to a major goddess.”

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted July 10, 2016


End file.
